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Amaranthine/part six
Many weary sunrises passed, each one taking a bit of my hope with it. Our captors milled around happily outside, bringing in piles of prey while we fed off their scraps. Their community seemed very different from ours, lacking the rigid organization and strictness we had back home. Their trainees were much more free than our Cadets, milling around the camp, talking and joking. They didn't have the prim system of Champions and Aristocrats, instead having four captains who commanded the rest of the cats, with a leader commanding the captains. It was much more military than ours, but it seemed more relaxed. Of course, none of this mattered, because I was their prisoner and probably would never be let free. One of their captains, Golden, often came over to check on us. From what I heard her say and do, I assumed she was in charge of defense and prisoners. She still scared me after the time she caught me and held me down, but I liked her mate, Creek. He was also a captain and seemed to take pity on us. I had a special hate for the emotionless guards who stood in and outside our den, never speaking a word. They stared us down, hatred in their gaze. Despite the odds against me, I still remained that ever-fading hope that we'd get out of here, that we'd get home. The other cats in our den didn't share that hope, having resigned to lying in their nests all day. I still didn't know what they were going to do with us or how we could ever escape, but in the back of my head, I believed we would return home somehow. Somehow. That somehow came twelve sunrises after our capture. From what I heard of the discussions going on outside our den, the group was trying to secure their borders. Apparently, more of our scouts had been detected, though none had been captured. Yet. If they could capture our best scout, there was no way that every one of our others could evade them for too long. It was only a matter of time until they figured out what was going on and declared war on us. Judging by the way the sun filtered through the woven leaves of our prison, it was about sunhigh when they attacked. The first battle cry rang through the camp, raising alarms everywhere. Our guards moved to the entrance of our den, claws unsheathed, but it was no use. Nascha came bursting through the leaves of the den, followed by an entourage of warriors. The former prisoners' faces were shining with expressions of delight as they raced out of the gap the warriors had left. I followed, giving Nascha a thankful smile. I raced out of the den, side by side with the captured scouts. Nascha and her warriors followed us, dealing with any cats who attempted to trail us. We raced across their territory like our lives depended on it (and they probably did), home growing closer with every step. I thought about nothing but the cherry trees leading up to the Council's den, the blossoms that covered the ground, the ivy winding around the tree the Cadets' den stood against. The scents of home flooded my senses as we crossed the border. The well-nurtured flowers of the Twilight Hunters' territory seemed to be welcoming me home, and I felt like I was absorbing the joy they radiated. Now that we were in our own territory, our pace slowed. Nascha quickened her steps so she walked beside me, which she had never done before. I had always assumed she was just as snooty as her father or sister, but the time away from home seemed to have transformed her. "I finally lead my first mission," she meowed excitedly, pride shining in her eyes. "Sorry I was never friendly to you before this. Speaking with 'commoners' is 'not acceptable behavior to the heir to the Twilight Hunters'." That was why she was so stuck-up? I probably should have realized it before, but I wasn't the best at reading other cats' emotions. I had never been good with other cats in general, preferring to hunt alone. I didn't mind the company of Lark or Raven, but I was never the most social of cats. The flowers got thicker and thicker as we reached the camp, twisting and turning from the wildflowers that grew around the edge of our territory to wisterias to the cherry trees that surrounded it. My face became brighter with every step closer to camp. To home. When the rosebushes that protected our dens came into sight, I immediately bolted into the entrance, the refreshing scents flooding my senses. Cats milled around my home as usual, though I sensed a little tension in the air. Lark and Raven were training by our den, while Blizzard meowed to Cherry about how WONDERFULLY EXCITING the war was. As soon as Cherry spotted Nascha and I she raced over, giving us both a lick on the head. Cherry was quite tall. "How did your first mission go?" Cherry asked Nascha, beaming. "Any news about the cats there?" "Calm down," Nascha muttered, though her eyes sparkled as much as Cherry's. "I'm an Aristocrat. I'm supposed to be royal and snooty." It was clear she was not, as she broke into a purr immediately after the words fell out of her mouth. "And Torrent," Cherry meowed, turning her amber gaze toward me. "Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me." I stood there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. I didn't tell her about how much I'd regretted my sacrifice afterward, or my slight, irrational anger at her for being free.. Instead, I replied with a practiced refrain I had often heard Lark and Raven purr to each other. I envied their bond. "That's what littermates are for, right?" Honestly, most of the delight in my voice came from my freedom, not our reassemblage.